


Roses

by Nevcolleil



Series: The Winchester Wyndham-Pryce Family Business [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 16:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Kanye West: “…to get there we run, we drive, we fly…  In my family, we know where home is, so instead of sending flowers - we the roses.“





	Roses

“That’s not- You can’t- Aw, let me do it!” Dean slapped Connor’s hands away, and went to work on the knot in the younger man’s tie.

“Ow! Ass,” Connor mumbled, rubbing his knuckles.

“Bitch.”

“ _Dad._ “

Wesley looked up from the maps spread out across the motel room’s small table. “Dean, don’t call your brother a ‘bitch’, please,” he said calmly.

Dean frowned, but replied with an obedient, “Yes, sir.”

“Connor?” Wesley continued as Connor was grinning. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Don’t call your brother an ‘ass’.” 

Dean snickered.

Wesley pretended not to hear the ensuing verbal spar the boys carried on under their breath. He rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching. They were each of legally adult age now, but whenever his sons came together it was like living with a carload of teenage boys, all over again.

Wesley sobered, reminded of what had brought the three of them here today. 

“I think we should be leaving now.”

The playful banter going on on the other side of the room ceased. Dean finished helping Connor with his tie in silence, then gave the tie a tug and ruffled Connor’s hair. Connor glared at him, grumbling. Wesley folded the maps he’d marked, lifting the one lying on top of the pile, open. He’d highlighted the route to St. Mary’s Cathedral. 

“We’re ready if you are, old man.” Dean smirked at Wesley on his way out the door. 

Wesley swatted at him with the map. 

Connor was the last one out of the room. He was still standing by one of the beds when Wesley stepped out. He looked at once handsome and mature and distinctly out of place in his somber suit.

“Dad…”

Wesley turned. “It’ll be alright, Connor.”

Connor nodded. The two of them walked to the car with Wesley’s hand on Connor’s shoulder.

 

***

 

At one time, the boys had gone to church regularly. It was when Sam and Connor were still somewhat small, and Dean so young school still held some degree of interest for him. 

Mary had chosen a Catholic church, in a small town where they’d decided to stay put for longer than usual. They’d managed to buy a small house. John had left a sum of money to Mary and the boys that she had never touched, and Wesley had been saving whatever money he could earn since he and Connor had arrived in this dimension. 

Wesley wasn’t Catholic, and neither was Mary. She and John had been married in a Methodist church she stopped attending two months after John’s death. But the church was aged and lovely, though austere. And Father Benjamin was kind and unimposing. He never questioned the quiet family that slipped in at the last moment before mass each Sunday morning, and stayed late so Mary could ask the boys what they’d learned from the day’s sermon. Wesley took the boys to see Father Benjamin every other Saturday, so they could ask questions, and Father only asked Wesley to consider registering the three for catechism once. 

The experience had been good for them all, Wesley believed. And not only because a familiarity with Catholicism benefited the boys’ home study. Wesley taught them Christian lore, basic demonology and Latin, among other subjects.

When Wesley and the boys left Hennessy, they also left behind their brief dedication to organized religion. The fire that had taken Mary and her killer’s body had taken Father Benjamin and half the church, as well, and the last hours the boys spent there had made it unlikely they would ever sit comfortably in a chapel again.

 

***

 

They paused outside St. Mary’s doors. They were not so late that there wasn’t still traffic in the parking lot. Mourners were still entering the church, and Dean was wiping the palms of his hands on his trouser legs.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Wesley simply stood beside him, Connor to his right. They entered St. Mary’s together, eyes passing over ushers and clergy, and black-clad men and women with their children, like the negative space of a painting.

It was the first time in almost a year that most of them had seen Sam. He stood at the other end of the long vestibule, nodding his head at the priest speaking to him, a harrowed-looking older couple standing nearby.   
They were undoubtedly Jessica’s parents. Wesley could see the late daughter in her mother’s grief-stricken face. Sam looked up. And the emotions that crowded into his red-rimmed eyes as he saw his father and his brothers struck Wesley from across the room. 

Wesley swallowed. The priest and Jessica’s parents turned, curiously, to see who or what had captured Sam’s attention. Sam walked away from them without a word, strides quickening as he closed the distance between himself and his family. Dean and Connor met him almost half-way. It was like the past year had been forgotten. Sam’s mouth opened as if he were trying to come up with something to say, but closed when Dean’s hand closed around the back of his neck, and pulled him into a brotherly hug. Connor’s arm simultaneously reached around Sam’s shoulders.

“D-Dean.”

“It’s okay, Sammy. We got you.”

“I’m sorry, Con.” The boys voices were low and thick, but Wesley stood near enough to hear how Sam’s broke.

Connor released a long, shuddering breath. “Forget it, man. I’m sorry, too.” 

Sam looked up, cheeks wet. “Dad-”

Connor and Dean parted from Sam and then Wesley was faced with all six feet, two inches of his tall, broad-shouldered, heart-broken son… 

Hugging Wesley like he was seven again and they were watching a burning steeple tumble to the ground, outside in the dark in northern Oklahoma. 

“Sam.” He said only that. Wesley knew from experience that there was little else to say.

After the funeral ceremony, Sam was expected at his in-laws’ reception. Wesley, Dean and Connor went with him. The air was suffocating in the spacious home, and the Moores said almost nothing while they were there. They didn’t even ask why they hadn’t seen the boys at the wedding. 

Jessica and Sam’s friends couldn’t stop talking. They were all so shocked and disbelieving - Jessica and Sam were still newlyweds. They’d only bought the house the month before. 

The fire was such a strange and senseless tragedy. 

 

***

 

The church and the gravesite were filled with flowers. Day-lilies, foxglove, larkspur and marigolds. Everything but roses.

“She hated roses.” Sam twirled a single daisy between his thumb and forefinger. The corner of his lips twitched. “Said they were lame.”

Wesley had followed Sam here. Sam had been staying with a friend, since the fire, but he’d gone back to the motel with Wesley, Dean, and Connor that evening. A few hours from dawn, Wesley had woken up and realized that Sam was missing. He’d left a note and taken the Impala, certain he knew where Sam had gone.

He‘d been right. The sun was creeping up the hillside, painting the cemetery in morning shades, as Wesley finally said, “I’m sorry, Sam. I am so sorry.”

Sam turned, for the first time since Wesley had walked across the dew-dampened grass and sat beside him on the stone bench. His eyes shined, tear-sheened but fierce.

“Why? Because the demon that got Jess was the same one that got my father and Mom? And we thought you‘d killed it.” Wesley flinched. “Or- I don’t know. Just the same kind, maybe. How is that your fault, either way?”

“That’s not what I-”

“Isn’t it?” 

Wesley didn’t respond to that. Sam looked away.

“You didn’t do this. No one did this,” Sam said, almost to himself. “Some _thing_ -” Sam swallowed. “Something we can kill did this.”

Wesley was watching him, carefully. 

He watched for a long while. Daylight had spread over most of the cemetery by the time Sam spoke again.

Sam turned back to Wesley slowly. 

“You’re going to look for it.” It was more than a question.

At the look in Wesley’s eyes, the tension left Sam suddenly. Even before Wesley replied:

“Yes.”

It was more than an answer.


End file.
